


bury me here

by honestlyfrance



Series: france's kisses bingo 2020 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bucky Barnes is a Poet, Domestic, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed, im a poetic mess ahahaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25646137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestlyfrance/pseuds/honestlyfrance
Summary: Bucky Barnes is afraid of losing his soulmate another time.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Series: france's kisses bingo 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847689
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32
Collections: Kisses Bingo





	bury me here

**Author's Note:**

> palm kisses/wiping away tears fill for the kisses bingo! enjoy and please tell me what you think!

He asks you to bury him right here, and you laugh. Oh, how hard you laugh. You can’t find a proper reaction to such a thought so you brushed it off with a simple friendly gesture. _Bury me here_ , the request echoes in your head when you drive back to work, when you wake up before sunrise, and when you come running back into his home in a fervent sweat. _Bury me right here with you_ , he says to you. It must be all just a funny joke because there he lay… lifeless; a vessel without a soul. He asked you to bury him that night, and you were a coward, and that killed your lover in the deepest way possible.

You mourn. You sobbed— You _screamed_ , you screamed until the air is exhaled out of your lungs until heaven and hell could hear your plead and resurrect your man. You hold onto his shirt, tugging on it, hoping that his chest elevates just a little. You wanted to find him in the dining room eating his breakfast but all you found was his soul slipping from your fingertips. Yes, Bucky Barnes, the universe isn’t kind, and Fate doesn’t care if Sam Wilson breathes his final breath.

That was two years ago, and Sam had never let it down. He teased and jested at Bucky’s obliviousness every chance he got. Bucky’s just glad they were soulmates with souls irrelevant to time, hence, they were excused from death when with each other.

After that moment, Bucky never left Sam’s side (but if the man says he needs his space, Bucky will give him that). They go grocery shopping together, they sleep together, they were partners in crime together, they did most things together. Out of everything, Bucky’s favorite thing to do with Sam was falling asleep with him. They would both be in bed, in their little bubble enjoying their time in silence and tranquility; Sam would be jotting down in his planner and journal while Bucky would be looking through his socials and occasionally send a link of a funny video or picture to Sam’s respective DMs. After all that mess of poking each other’s feet and just slyly catching a glimpse of each other. Sam would turn off the bedside lamp as Bucky begins to spoon him. It’s their kind of bubble of peace and oh wow they feel like flying being light as a feather right here.

They sleep with each other’s stardust in their veins, wrapping their fingers around the other’s wrists to feel their lover’s life strum against theirs. Bucky loved moments like this, when he could have Sam in his arms for a long time, never letting go. It assures him much like a kiss, fleeting and deep, yet he understands and he doesn’t doubt it. Falling in love must be like this: fleeting and deep, a constant fact.

It’s because Sam was so beautiful it’s incomprehensible, and to think that Bucky hadn’t realized he had fallen in love sooner. It all looks like a joke, he swears, and he still laughs about it, how ridiculously oblivious he was. All those nights under the stars and morning runs that consisted of sunrises that look like his love; these are the things that made Bucky look so stupid next to love, but he thinks it’s alright. He knows now, and he knows he’s so hooked up he’s never giving up.

So it’s no surprise why he’s still shaken up from finding the man he loves slipping from his grasp. It’s a scary moment, to see the love of his life slowly fade away, stars at the back of his eyes, night turns into galaxies, everything so pretty but everything was dead. God, death never was supposed to be so pretty and he was prepared to mourn for that too.

Bucky cries in his sleep as he sees those same stars he looked up to like the art Sam analyzes: carefully crafted by the very thing that created who he was, it was never supposed to be so intimate. He sleeps with Sam in his arms and all he could feel is stardust slipping away, further and further as he drowns in his sleep, and he worries that he’ll lose it all when he wakes up, his arms empty of the world.

He’s shaking, his breath stuttering like a panicked child. He wanted to come back home, back to Earth, relive nothing but happiness and Sam’s laugh, so bright and charming he’s swooned every single time like a damn fool. Bucky wanted to sleep in Sam’s arms without ever feeling like he could lose him at any minute. Bucky wanted to believe that Sam is his soulmate and they’ll live forever, as they feel they could be.

Sam wakes up with Bucky’s tears painting the back of his shirt. His heart aches at the mere feel of it, knowing that his man will never let it go. _Let it go? How can I let go of a possibility?_ he would say, and Sam breaks a little bit in the inside as he turns around to face him. He’ll find him shaking, his arms around himself, and his eyes shut tight. Bucky will see stars in his sleep and that’s too beautiful a dream to wake up from, so Sam really couldn’t wake him.

It’s like this some nights. Bucky refuses to get help but will reluctantly do so anyway, just so Sam wouldn’t pester him. Bucky tries, oh how he tries but it’s no use; how can he not be scared about an eventual thing? One day, it’ll be the day without Sam that he’d lose him, and he’s not ready for that yet.

“ _I’m dreaming…_ ” Sam sang, his voice so hushed that it’s breaking. The back of his hand brushes against Bucky’s wet cheek and the man visibly shivered. “ _…of a white… Christmas_.”

It was the first of August but Sam couldn’t wait for the holidays. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, and Christmas — oh! and New Year’s Eve.

“ _Just like the ones… I used to know…_ ” Sam continued to sing, and as he sang, the closer his lips set a gentle kiss on Bucky’s forehead. It was just a fleeting kind of kiss, nothing too exciting, but the way Bucky’s shoulders rolled back, exhaling a little sigh, and his eyebrows relaxing, Sam could tell it meant everything.

Sam couldn’t help but smile at that. He brushes his hand against Bucky’s cheeks and began to wipe the tears away, humming to the tune of Christmas songs as August wind zips past their window.

“Is it the day of your Lord, already?” Bucky hummed in his sleep, his fingers curling around the collar of Sam’s shirt.

Sam hummed back, snuggling closer to his man that their noses are almost touching. “No. Christmas songs are just nice.”

“I know. That’s why I let you play them in July.”

“James… It’s August already.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed deeply as he scowled. “The fuck?”

Sam’s laugh, even in the first few seconds of the next day, was as lively as if he was awake, but in fact, he’s still stiff as a log and half asleep when he’s wiping Bucky’s tears away. Bucky hummed along with Sam and it’s their kind of symphony. His breathing was lax and Sam didn’t have to hold his breath anymore.

“Can I tell you something, Sammy?”

Sam’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Bucky’s open ones. The room was pretty dark, but it’s as if he could see the blue in them as clear as day. “Yeah, Buck?” he said.

Bucky pursed his lips, wrapping his arm around Sam’s waist. “You don’t have to do that for me. Don’t wake up.”

“I want to. Why don’t you want me to wake up?”

And it’s innocent, almost child-like when he says it. Oh, naive Bucky, he and his aching heart, forever played in Sam’s hands, it’s all in six words: “You grow old when you’re awake.”

There’s goes Sam’s heart shattering into a million pieces, his breathing stuttering for a moment before he stares at Bucky, trying to piece in the vague shapes in front of him, figuring out the details that made sense. After a few seconds of silence, Sam lurches forward and captured Bucky’s lips in his in a chaste kiss, sweet and deep, Bucky’s already twisting him so he could lay on his chest.

Sam lets go but he plants a quick one again before he says: “That’s not how this works, you know.”

“A lover can wish.”

Sam’s got his hands on Bucky’s chest as the man turns the lamplight on. They’re then doused in orange light, and it dances in Sam’s brown eyes, the absolute picture of a supernova, or the sun, swirling in the darkest recces of space like a burst of God’s light. It’s such a beautiful sight that Bucky just had to voice out his thoughts, his breath on Sam’s neck as he says it all, those same words in his thoughts: _like a burst of God’s light_.

Sam smiled, chuckling as Bucky brushed his fingers above Sam’s eyebrow. “You’re a poet at one in the morning too, huh?”

“A poet’s gotta have ‘nother poet,” he replied as he brings Sam closer to his body, his arms enveloping around him like a warm blanket.

“Hm, all I can say is just stop worrying,” Sam whispers into Bucky’s ear. “You’ll have white hair stressing like that.” Sam’s hands caress his cheeks, forcing the man to look into his eyes. “I need you to know that we both grow old. People age. We do that. But you know what doesn’t change? Our eyes. Ma’s always said if you’re gonna fall in love with someone’s body it better be the eyes, because God— those never change, not even the color nor the pupil.”

Bucky hummed, and when he smiled it was all squished up from Sam’s hands, and that only made his smile reach into both their eyes. “Your mama’s nice. Wish I could’ve met her.”

“Well, that’s a _long_ time from now.”

With that, Bucky’s hand interlocked with one of Sam’s. Turning it over, Bucky pressed a deep kiss into the palm of Sam’s hand. He practically inhaled Sam’s scent as he did so, kissing his knuckles then his fingers, then to the wrist then to the elbow. As he did this, Sam’s found a home in the crook of Bucky’s neck, a smile on his lips he couldn’t wipe off.

“I love you and your eyes,” Bucky says out of the blue, the light turned off and the morning light creeping through the gaps of their curtain.

Sam groaned and rolled over, his hand still intertwined with Bucky’s. “Is it morning already? What did we do.”

Bucky planted a kiss on Sam’s ear and the man snorted at that, turning quickly to face him as he says: “Kissin’ and sleeping. The perfect combo.”

Sam laughed at that, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck as the man brings him close to his chest. There they felt each other’s life strum in a better place: the heart. It’s their favorite song in the entire world too.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [ tumblr ](https://honestlyfrance.tumblr.com/)!


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